The only other person who was nice to me was Ms. Peixes. She was the art teacher, but because our school was so small and we didn't have a special education teacher, she was my teacher too. She had long curly black hair that she ties back in a bun that is almost like Momma's but not quite and a nice round face and clear kind blue eyes that shine like empty space. Her classroom is my place, my sanctuary. It's were I can sit and draw and no one ever bothers because they know if they do that Ms. Peixes will get onto them and she can be very scary when she does and I am thankful for that. I like Ms. Peixes. She reminds me of Momma even though she's not and smells a little like fish because she eats tuna fish sandwiches everyday for lunch. I like her room that smells like charcoal and clay and paint that reminds everyone else of cat pee but I think smells like possibilities. I like her and her room because it's the only place other than home that I'm safe. I like her because she's not very good at math but does her best with me anyways. Because she smiles at me when I learn something new and do it very well and tells me I've done a good job. She lets me sit in her classroom that smells like possibilities and cat pee after school while I wait on Meulin to come get me. She almost a friend but not exactly.

I don't like her because she makes me sit at lunch with everyone else while she eats with the other teachers. The mean teachers. She makes me go to recess and sit in the other classes for one hour everyday because she says that interacting with people my age is good for me. But I don't believe that because all they ever do is be mean to me because they are mean people and I'm different and wrong. And because sometimes when I'm trying hard to do something right she doesn't seem to understand and just sighs like I'm the failure everyone else calls me. Because she wants to show people my art when I don't want to so a little voice in my head tells me that she's just using me to try to make money off me because I can draw better than she can. I don't like that voice in my head so sometimes I try to talk to make it go away and it just laughs at me when I can't. If I could, I would take that voice out of my head and beat it with my paintbrush until it admitted that Ms. Peixes was my friend and would never do that. But I can't do that because it's only a voice in my head. And because it's only my voice that I can't ever use.

But after Karkat brought me my sketch book filled with not white pages, things changed some. When Ms. Peixes left me at my empty table that I eat lunch at with her tuna fish sandwich, I thought things would be the same as always so I started to eat my animal crackers and peanut butter and jelly. Momma always made my lunches and she'd pick out all the cats for me to eat at the end of the week because she told me that cats ruled the jungle and were at the top of the food chain. I had to eat them last to obey the rules of the jungle. Because I was a lion too. And lions eat everything else. So I crunched little elephants and zebras imagining them screaming when the mighty lioness brought them down. And Karkat sat down next to me. He was close but not very like he wanted to get closer but was scared of me. I hated when people were scared of me. I was different and broken but I wouldn't infect others with it. I only wanted a friend who understood that. Why couldn't anyone see that? Sometimes Momma didn't even see that and that made me sad. But I think he was scared for a different reason because he didn't look at me weird but only got out his lunch and acted like everything was normal even though we both new it wasn't. So we sat there and ate without saying anything. When Ms. Peixes came to check on me every 15 minutes she looked over at him like she wanted to say something but didn't because he was different too, like me but not, with that bright white hair and eyes the color of red Valentine's Day cards. But when it was time to go back to our class, he did it again. He talked to me and he said in that less angry and more frustrated voice:
"Goodbye Nepeta. I'll see you later I guess."

I didn't understand him. I don't understand him. He was like a new bug made of white and red and less angry but more frustrated. He was like a new kind of spider who sat on the wall all tiny and cute and tried to take on anyone who passed it by with raised little legs and tough look in its eye that no one saw unless you got close enough. But he wasn't like the others because he was nice to me and I couldn't figure out why though I think it had to do with his bright white hair and sharp red eyes. Maybe he had been made fun of too? But I didn't think much about it because he was a stranger. I don't like strangers and I don't know him. He was different but not in my world. So I shoved him away to the back of my mind where he sat there for hours as nothing but a spectator while I went through the day. And I didn't mean to but he kept nagging and nagging until I wanted to beat him with my paintbrush too but I knew even if I could, I wouldn't. I wouldn't because he was different. You could tell that too if you looked close enough.

I did see him later just like he guessed because it was the day that his class came for an art lesson. The details on her gold bracelets and the golden glow in her hair and- "Hey Karkat!"

I couldn't help it. I glanced up. He was there in the room, his bright white hair like a white sock in a bundle of colors. And I watched him. I don't know why. He was with someone else who was tall and skinny and wore stupid polka-dot pants. I knew him but not his name but in my head he was always Clownface. He wasn't really mean to me not ever not really but when they were mean to me, he sat and did nothing. I wonder if he even knew. I decided I didn't like Clownface. The nubby boy sat next to Clownface on the other side of the room far away from me. I wanted to tell him to come over here to sit next to me but I didn't because I couldn't so I just went back to my painting. The beads on her top and the green showing on her long claw like finger nails and Ms. Peixes was looking at Nubby as though he were a mean person even though he was good. She squinted her eyes while his head was down while he worked and looked like she wanted to say something but didn't because she didn't know the story and she wouldn't because no one ever spoke up for the 'retard'. A few flying strands of black curling hair and a pit of blackness laced with mischief for her pupil and the space between her smiling teeth and now Karkat was putting a paper in the middle of the desk because he was finished. He was talking to Clownface and then looked up at me for only a second and we almost made eye contact but I let my eyes slide away as though I hadn't really been looking at him and only near him because I was scared what he'd see if we did.

Then I stared at my painting. Of Momma when she was younger and more beautiful and happier. When the stress of raising two disabled girls didn't make her hair turn grey or mold wrinkles into her skin. When Poppa was still alive and I wasn't there yet and when Meulin wasn't there yet. When she was a belly dancer and wrote stories with Poppa and was still religious. When she would smile without any sadness or sorrowful anger or quiet hopelessness. When everything was perfect the way it should be. I wish I could have seen this Momma. I stared and stared without painting or moving and I stayed that way until everyone was gone and it was almost time for school to be over and Ms. Peixes had to come stand by me and ask if I was ok. I didn't answer, just pulled my knees to my chest and stared. I wondered what life would have been like if Poppa was still alive or if Meulin weren't deaf or if I weren't broken or if Momma still danced. I wondered and stared and wondered and stared until Ms. Peixes took my painting to put it up because she knew I was done without having to tell her because she was good like that. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the big shaky letter in bright olive green paint that said 'Momma' that I painted on the back. It was the title. It was the Momma I wanted to see some times. I wondered what Ms. Peixes would say if I told her this because I was able to. I wondered if she would help me or say I had to figure it out on my own like she did sometimes. I always hated when she did that. It was annoying. But then I stopped wondering. Because Meulin was here and it was time to go home.